Diablo II: The Fall & Rise of Blood Raven
by Mirith
Summary: Chains are broken and Blood Raven awakens. But what has traversed whilst she was in the demonic grasp of her possessors?
1. Chapter I: Broken Chains

_**Chapter I – Broken Chains**_

Her surroundings were a spinning, dizzy whirl of colours, repeatedly gaining focus for a moment before her vision exploded with intense pain and strange blurry images. Her temples throbbed like the thrust of a knife as she struggled to escape the torturous semi-consciousness.

"Whe...where am I?" She painstakingly tried to stare through the haze and a cracked, moss-covered tombstone slowly coalesced into her vision.

WHAAAM!

Sudden excruciating pain at the core of her cranium snapped her head back and slammed it into the damp, muddy ground. The strange images continued pierced her haze of pain.

_A torn and mouldy fluttering tapestry bearing a sightless eye within a dark and ancient building... Lithe and slender human forms writhing in throes of death under a cloud of deadly poison... She was bound, unable to break the invisible bonds with all her might... helpless as four gleaming, dripping scorpion-like stings slowly snaked down towards her throat._

"AAARGGG! PLEASE STOP!" But the images were relentless and continued to flood out from within her mind and consciousness.

_Night had fallen... several rogues stood vigilantly on watch upon the monastery walls...one with whom she was very familiar with...Marienna, a close comrade and fellow captain. Marienna stood out prominently from the others with a muscular figure, constant alertness, and a feline grace which exuded in her walk and the effortless bearing of hertwelve-foot spear. In the gloom of a rooftop archway of the monastery, an arrow shaft glimmered as a bow aimed at Marienna was drawn taut... Her friend's alertness would never have anticipated an attack from within the monastery... She tried to scream to warn Marienna, but there was only the whistling of the night breeze...What sorcery is this! In silent horror, she watched the bow loose the arrow which flew unerringly towards Marienna... Her friend instinctively flinched and tried to dodge a split moment before the arrow pierced her throat, splattering the cobblestones with blood. Realisation warped into terror as she comprehended that she was the wielder of the bow firing the fatal shot...Demonic voices rose in unison in her mind, gripping her body, arms and legs like the strings upon a puppet...She tried to scream... instead she began to laugh, a sinister and malevolent laugh chorused by the guttural laughter of her possessors...She was helpless and imprisoned within her own body...Her hand was raised and waved forward...a flurry of dark forms rushed past her towards the rogues upon watch...The dark forms were once rogues, but now frothed from their mouths in eternal demonic rage, their bodies shuddered with inhuman malice and blood-thirst which urged them to slaughter even as it consumed them...There was nothing she could do but be forced to watch the destruction of her beloved Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye in horrible tormenting silence..._


	2. Chapter I: Continued

_**Chapter I – Broken Chains (Cont'd)**_

_She could only watch in horror and pity as her own possessed body ordered her tainted rogues to hoist Cheyianne's battered and bloodied body onto the tree._

_"Blood Raven! Why are you doing this!" Cheyianne screamed at her in despair. __  
__Cheyianne's pleas were answered by guttural laughter and an arrow shaft through the knee which pinned Cheyianne to the tree._

_"Please Blood Raven, you can fight them. I know you can! Please... help me!"_

_Her plea died in her throat when Blood Raven made an arcane gesture to the surrounding graves of the Sisters' Burial Grounds. Soil shifted, and hands emerged from the graves as corpses clawed their way to the surface from their slumber into eternal undeath. Blood Raven laughed tauntingly and gleefully, her white pupils twitching erratically, the demonic madness consuming her mind and soul. Each zombie shambled to Blood Raven and faced her in their undeath silence. "Join my army." Blood Raven gestured to the zombies, laughing with insanity, before spinning suddenly and plunging her clawed hand into Cheyianne's chest. Cheyianne's open-mouthed look of horror was her last as her heart was ripped still beating from her body..._

Consciousness returned and although the throbbing pain had subsided, her head continued to reel and her vision blur. Blood Raven found her ability to control her arms and legs an alienated sensation, the possession had felt like it had been an eternity. She shut her eyes tightly as she glimpsed the decaying remains of a comrade rogue and Cheyianne, who still dangled from a withered rope from a branch of the burial ground's tree.

"What have I done..."

Tears ran down Blood Raven's cheeks as the intrusive images faded away and memories flooded back with terrible revelations of her terrible deeds. Her gentle now almond-coloured eyes widened in horror as she fought her nauseous urges to vomit. Her tanned skin paled slightly as she curled into a fetal position facing the monstrosity of her actions. The sound of uneven, rapid shallow breathing made Blood Raven start, and she glanced through her luscious but mangled raven-black hair to see an armour-clad knight who struggled with each breath.  
Blood Raven crawled towards the knight, who lay upon the burial soil without his helm. An arrow shaft appeared to have somehow seared through his breastplate before lodging itself deep into his chest. The knight who was obviously once a tall, proud and gaunt man, now lay with his blond tresses soaked in the mud, his armor burnt and battered. He appeared to be upon the brink of consciousness, and with each exhale he made crimson bubbles cascaded down his cheek with the trickle of blood.

The knight turned deathly pale and his body shuddered with uncontrollable fear as his first response to seeing her.

"You...you're st...still alive!" he stammered despairingly.

Blood Raven did know how to respond as she continued to grapple with her deeds.  
"Be still Sir Knight, and tell me who has done this to you?"  
She grasped the arrow shaft to determine if it could be safely extracted, only to snatch back her hand back gasping in surprise.

"ARGH!" Her hand had been burnt by the wooden shaft as though she had grasped a rod of tempered steel!

She looked to the knight for answers only to notice his eyes had widened and he had been staring at her in astonishment.

"You...you...oh my...by Tyrael's Fist!" His agate eyes twinkled and suddenly the knight appeared more relaxed.

"We did not fail...we did not die in vain..." The knight's final words were only a murmur Blood Raven could just barely comprehend as the twinkle left his eyes and his stare became vacant gaze into eternity.

Wild, animalistic snarls in the close distance forced Blood Raven's focus upon her bleak surroundings. The Sisterhood's burial grounds were now strewn with toppled moldy headstones and overgrown with vines and vegetation. The solitary tree at the centre of the graves resurfaced childhood memories within Blood Raven in which she had solemnly stood, unsuccessfully fighting back her tears, during her mother's burial. She had been no more than twelve summers of age then and beside her had stood Cheyianne, of a similar age, who had squeezed her hand and pointed to the tree. The sight of the ashen tree had strangely bestowed Blood Raven then a sense of peace with its lush, slender and graceful branches. It had reassured Blood Raven that beneath its protective shade, her mother would always lay in comfort and peace.

But now Cheyianne's corpse hung moldering in decay, and the tree's twisted and warped growth evoked images of spindly, skeletal hands, and of death. Many of the graves, including her mother's, had been visibly vacated as though restful peace could not be found under the foreboding shroud of fog blanketing the burial grounds. Blood Raven swiftly turned her sight away from several putrefied corpses which lay close to the cobbled path ringing the burial ground tree. Several hundred metres further along the mossy and overgrown path, she could barely discern the shadow of a structure that should be the mysterious Mausoleum, which had stood even before the Sisterhood's occupation of the Monastery.

Blood Raven's struggle to regain her feet was enduring and painful. Stabbing shards of pain raced through her thighs and calves with each attempt she made to rise from her knees.  
"Grrrrr! What is wrong with me!" she screamed in frustration as she painfully collapsed once more. For a moment her attention was distracted by a grotesque bone mask which lay upon the grass an arms-breadth away from her. Blood Raven was not familiar with any animals wielding a horned skull of such size, which could easily have been worn upon a person's head. As ghastly as the grimy pale-coloured skull was to her with its vicious barbs and narrow, slanted eye slits, she was strangely attracted to its smooth crest which curved downwards like a beak to end in a set of serrated teeth. Now she that had noticed the blood-stained mask, it forcibly transfixed her gaze, beckoning to be donned.

"BLOOOODRAAAVVEENNN! RETURRRRN TO USSSS…!" A rising unison of demonic howling began to echo within her mind as her arms were wrenched forward to reach for the mask.

"No!" Blood Raven lashed out with right foot and knocked the mask tumbling over a fallen headstone and out of sight within a growth of weeds. The mesmerizing trance broke immediately and with surprisingly renewed strength she staggered to her feet.

The pattering rain became a gentle downpour as she tenderly removed the rotten arrow from Cheyianne's knee. Blood Raven's slim athletic frame shivered in the cold, and the moisture which fell from her cheeks was a mixture of rain and remorseful tears.

"How could I have let this happen to you Chei…oh, dear Chei…" The arrow dislodged from Cheyianne's decayed body with a fine fleck of aged and dried blood. Blood Raven gazed up at her friend's skeletal visage which remained mottled with flakes of rotting flesh and fine strands of faded blond hair.

"Please forgive me, I never meant for this to happen…I wish…I wish it never did." She pleadingly whispered. But the corpse still returned her stare with its horrified expression, shadowy eye hollows and its gum-less jaws agape.

The touch of the exposed spine chilled Blood Raven's hand to the bone as she cupped Cheyianne's neck and gently lowered her childhood friend's corpse upon the damp soil.  
"Dear Chei…there is little I can do for you now…You are a true Sister, and even unto death you wear the Rogue's garb…your proper restful place is within the Mausoleum…beside our greatest heroes."

In her sorrow, Blood Raven lay her head down upon Cheyianne's ruined leather tunic, oblivious to the maggots which writhed out from under the corpse's skin. For a moment, it seemed as though Blood Raven had also joined the dead, and the two slender bodies lay still upon the cobblestones, both garbed in the Sisterhood's scarlet-red, a colour signifying strength, the Rogues' fierce passion and ferocity for battle and the Cause.

Blood Raven's recitation of Cheyianne's final rites was interrupted by a ferocious snarl and the audible approach of slow, ponderous steps. Instinctively, she slowed her breathing, remaining motionless as she listened to the menace draw closer. As a young Rogue, Blood Raven's training to survive in the wilderness had taught her not to flee, but to initially surprise the feral predator, and then maintain an aggressive and intimidating stance until the animal would depart for easier prey. Her slight hesitation when she heard the snorts of several approaching animals resulted in her loss of the element of surprise. Blood Raven glanced back to get a glimpse of her assailants as she kicked out low with her foot at the nearest of the two creatures. Even with its clumsy stumble backwards, the creature easily avoided the Rogue's hard leather boot. Instead of facing a feral cat or quill rat, Blood Raven stared in astonishment at the two hideous waist-height creatures, one which continued to hiss and snarl at her. Unlike the symbolic scarlet-red of Blood Raven's tunic and leather boots, the wart-covered skins of the impish creatures were a dark shade of blood-red, their bodies covered only by filthy loincloths and adorned by brass nose rings and other body piercings. A crop of dirty black hair sprouted from the top of their heads, and mangled out into a pony tail bound by some rope.

After recovering from its stumble, the nearest imp challenged Blood Raven with a rasping shriek, and drew a rust-coated short sword from its crude metal scabbard slung in its loincloth. Blood Raven stood to her full height as the infuriated imp menacingly advanced and savagely swung its blade at her midsection. The imp's swing was forceful for the creature's size, and Blood Raven was surprised at the degradation of her reflexes when she attempted to dodge away from the slash. Before her demonic possession, she could have confidently compared her reflexes to the speed of an arrow in flight. But now, even as it had taxed all her strength to regain her feet, she did not pull away fast enough and the blade ripped her tunic, marking a short red trail just below her luscious curves. In her sluggish state, Blood Raven was thankful that the other imp still stood with its sword sheathed, gawking at her height with an astonished look upon its hideous face.

The vicious attacking imp had begun frothing with blood-thirst from its toothy mouth at the sight of her minor scratch. It planted the handle of its short sword against its waist, and made a clumsy charge at Blood Raven with the intention of skewering her upon its blade. The imp's screeching battle cry was deftly cut short when the Rogue fluidly sidestepped the advancing blade and fiercely slammed her knee under the onrushing imp's chin. The momentum of the rush reversed abruptly and the blood-red figure dropped its short sword as it tumbled backwards into unconsciousness.

Blood Raven swiftly swept up the crude iron short sword and faced the remaining imp, who now stood visibly trembling with fear, its eyes seemingly darting uncontrollably between its fallen comrade, the Rogue, and somewhere far away towards the direction from which it had first approached. The terrified imp almost leapt when Blood Raven tauntingly waved her newly obtained short sword. In alarm, it reached to draw its own rusty sword, and screeched in frustration when finding it had rusted and become jammed within its poorly conditioned scabbard. Blood Raven lowered her guard in surprise when the imp became a snarling and enraged self-rabble rolling upon the ground, its tiny taloned feet kicking into the air as it wrestled with its own sword in a tantrum. The nature and stupidity of these creatures completely disgusted her, and she gave the imp a swift boot on the backside. With a yelp, the imp snapped out of its tantrum and fled into the weeds, its frightened whimpering eventually receding into the distance.


	3. Chapter II: Taint of Chaos

**_Chapter II - Taint of Chaos_**

_"Silverstrom?", the young girl with raven-black hair lightly tugged the hem of the aged seeress' grey robes. __  
__The frail and wise seeress who's true name had been lost to the Sisterhood for almost a century, regarded the inquisitive Rogueling with amber eyes of wisdom and patience. "Yes little one, what has caught your curiousity now?" __  
__The tiny girl pressed closer to the motherly figure as the procession slowly filed across the threshold into the chilly Mausoleum. "Why do the doors open for Avariel but they didn't for mommy?" Her wandering gaze now scoured the torch-lit walls and ceiling of the ancient tomb, searching for a mechanism which might operate the Mausoleum's gates. __  
__"Well dear...some things are better left unknown, and some things people are just never supposed to know. Do you know why your hair is as thick and black as the night, and mine has become silvery-white through all the years?" __  
__The Rogueling walked silent and pondering for a moment, before replying. "No, I don't know." __  
__"Exactly. Why do the doors only open for some? I've heard legends about this place...it is said that it is a final resting place for heroes. But a legend is all it can be...it is always your choice in what to believe." __  
__"So...mommy wasn't a hero then?" she pouted her cute rosy lips and was clearly disturbed by the thought. __  
__"My little Raven, she is one of the bravest of the Sisters I have known, and the essence of a heroine. Of course she was dear, of course she was..." the seeress' reassuring and gentle voice echoed through the chamber as the procession led by bearers of their deceased Sister's casket continued its descent into the gloom of the Mausoleum._

Bearing Cheyianne's body in her arms, Blood Raven grimly crossed the burial grounds towards the moon-lit Mausoleum.  
"Will the gates open for you Chei? We have fought side-by-side in almost every battle and your bravery, ferocity and service to the Cause has been nothing but heroic."

Behind her still lay the unconscious imp, and the fallen knight whom Blood Raven had construed to be her liberator from the demonic grasp of her possessors. The unnamed knight's battered and bloodied body reflected his fortitude against the hardships he must have faced to achieve his noble quest. With deepening remorse, she glanced back to the armour-clad form whom she was certain would have made a gallant and capable companion. At this vulnerable time in which she needed the most assistance, oblivious to what had befallen the Sisterhood, she was alone and without guidance.  
"First I will see to the peaceful rest of my Sister, then I will see that you too Sir Knight will also be honoured with a proper burial." 

The archaic granite structure of the Mausoleum loomed before her, its moss-covered pillars standing impassively tall to meet in a high archway engraved with images of entwining vines, blossoms and nature's fertility. At the front of the Mausoleum, its smooth walls curved inwards to line the flight of chiselled stone stairs which ran up to the entry antechamber. Blood Raven strained her eyes but was unable to perceive anything within the antechamber's murky darkness which was dimly lit by the two oil-soaked torches aside the foot of the stairs.

Bearing one of the flaming torches and cradling her Sister in her arms, Blood Raven ascended the stairs, marvelling at the monumental size of the structure which had resolutely weathered the elements, war and the centuries. As she reached the top of the stairs, her torchlight flooded into the Mausoleum's vestibule and several rodent-sized forms scurried to escape back into the gloom. The antechamber more clearly evinced the antiquity of the structure. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs lined its walls, and a large portion of the ceiling had long collapsed to fragment into a mosaic of granite pieces upon the floor.

She almost dropped Cheyianne upon the debris littered floor as she stepped into the antechamber, in awe of the destruction of the Mausoleum's entrance. In her visit to this mournful place as a young Rogue, the gates of the Mausoleum had seemed unassailable, its thickness of solid granite spanning at least four hand-breadths. Even the weight of a single slab of the gate would undoubtedly pulverise any of the Gargantuan Beasts which peacefully co-existed in the woods with the Sisterhood. The lower half of the granite gates still bore countless marks of scratches and chiselled notches inflicted by tomb robbers who had miserably failed in their forcible entry under the cold, watchful stare of the figurines carved into the stone. But from an unprecedented force, the height of the gates had been decimated, and angry fractures now veined throughout the stone where it had been shattered. Blood Raven inferred from her examination of the gates that a titanic impact had been exerted upon the gates from the exterior.

"What in the will of the Cause could have done this?" her question remained unanswered by her stare over the remnants of the gate into the yawning lightless portal of the Mausoleum. Enormous chunks of granite remained strewed upon the steep, narrow stairs descending within, escalating the precariousness of her journey onwards. 

"AAAAARRRRHHH!" a horrific scream echoed up from the depths of the resting place for the dead.

Blood Raven was startled, her skin crawling from the livid, inhuman scream. She was reminded of the burial ground's vacant graves, their former occupants now possibly shambling mindlessly in slow, animated decomposition. "What has happened? Why are the dead no longer at rest?" she whispered to herself fearfully.

Placing her torch and her comrade's body upon the broken gate, Blood Raven agilely traversed the shattered stone into the Mausoleum. She pressed forward, descending into the shadowy depths, Cheyianne bundled in her arms, and lighting the way with her torch. The Rogue's face no longer held traces of fear, but only fierce determination to ascertain what had happened to her Sisters and to the sanctity of this hallow resting place.


	4. Chapter II: Continued

**_Act II – Taint of Chaos (Cont'd)_**

Her passage into the Mausoleum was slow, gingerly maneuvering the gloomy way past the rubble upon the stone steps. At times the immense granite chunks from the shattered gate had obstructed most of the space between the stairs and the high ceiling, forcing Blood Raven to crawl through narrow gaps above the debris. The Rogue's legs felt fatigued and her hand numb from touching the cold stone walls. As she clambered through another crevice Blood Raven let a sigh of relief to see the foot of the stairs end in a shadowy, open archway. She turned haul Cheyianne onto the stairs, and fluidly spun to face the swift flash of movement in the corner of her eye. "Does the darkness play illusions upon my senses, or did I see the rushing past of something as pale white as bone?" There no longer seemed to be anything visible in the shadowy archway leading into the chamber. Her short blade drawn and with tense cautiousness, the Rogue edged towards the archway of mottled stone. Thrusting her burning torch into the chamber, she warily peered within.

Blood Raven was assailed by the dank, stale air of the chamber, and the dim illumination of her torchlight revealed everything but life. The chamber walls were filled with narrow stone niches, containing the skeletal remains of countless fallen humanoids. If the tall decorated arches within the Rogue's Monastery were impressive, the Mausoleum's architecture could only be grandeur. Rows upon rows of granite burial niches layered upwards in an irregular arrangement along the walls to a breathtaking height. The ceiling of the chamber was even beyond the radius of her torchlight. The bare sandstone floor of the chamber and its towering design did not divulge any indications of how each of the entombed had been placed upon their recesses. It seemed that after the construction of such an architectural feat, its builders had felt it unnecessary to furnish adornments, and the walls were bleak and unmarked, absent of any decorations or engravings. Along the doorway where Blood Raven believed she had perceived the flash of movement, an unlit corridor stretched off from east to west into the darkness.

"My mother was not granted the boon of having her resting place within these hallowed walls, but at least as a request of forgiveness I can grant you this Chei." Blood Raven solemnly placed Cheyianne into an empty niche where she hoped her Sister would finally find peace.   
"Rest in peace now my Sister. The Cause has willed your spirit to serve beyond the living, abarrach et' doit." The Rogue softly recited her final farewell. She had few material possessions to honour her comrade with, and instead cut a lock of her luscious hair to place within Cheyianne's skeletal hand.

The still silence within the ancient Mausoleum seemed forbidding, almost unwelcoming, and Blood Raven considered departing the Mausoleum without delay. The unnatural atmosphere within the tomb was depleting her resolve to investigate the source of the scream which had emanated from this place.

Her task here was done, and she had found no evidence upon the sandstone floor to confirm that she had indeed seen a living thing within this place of the dead. Returning her blade to its iron sheathe, she seated herself upon the floor to tighten the bindings upon her boots before beginning the long climb back to the surface.

A clammy rivet of liquid splashed upon the left shoulder of her tunic, and Blood Raven blurred with her sudden motion across the chamber into a crouching position, sword in hand.  
"What the…?"  
She stared upwards into the darkness which concealed the ceiling, searching for an upper level of the tomb. Glancing at her tunic, rivulets of a darker crimson had trailed down the leather from where it had first splashed upon her. A veteran of battles and of compassionately tendering for her injured Sisters, the Rogue almost instinctively recognised the scent of blood. As she scrutinised the upper burial niches, another droplet fell from the shadows and splattered upon the bare sandstone in a viscous stain of red.  
"Is someone up there? Are you injured?" Blood Raven's hesitant voice clearly evinced her fear and uncertainty.

The Mausoleum remained in deathly stillness and silence for a moment, and as if in answer dark-red blood fell faster, at a more horrific frequency, pooling upon the floor and trickling along the crevices between the sandstone slabs which constituted the floor.

Another desperate and terrified shriek emanated throughout the ancient tomb. It resonated not from above but via the echoing subterranean corridor. Blood Raven moved swiftly without hesitation, heading east along the tunnel towards the source. Her torchlight cast flickering shadows around the broad granite pillars which lined the tunnel at regular intervals to support the ceiling. The corridor turned and twisted, each bend occurring at not more than several hundred metres, as though its builders had intended to impose a loss in the sense of direction upon anyone making their passage through it. As she pressed onwards, her surroundings distinctively became more aged and derelict. From her childhood memory of the Mausoleum, the Sisterhood utilised the more maintained section of the tomb to the west. Parts of the wind weathered walls here had crumbled in disrepair; this part of the tomb appeared to have been disused or abandoned for an extensive period time.

The Rogue halted as the passage eventually straightened, and widened expansively into a pillared hall which marked the intersection of two corridors. Four monolithic pillars carved in a polygonal shape had once stood at each corner, but the furthest column to her left had since toppled and its fragmented segments now obstructed the exit which faced her. Blood Raven keenly listened, but there were no further screams. She had reached indecision in how to proceed. The walls were bare, and did not reveal any purpose or destination of the corridors, nor was there a visible access leading to an upper level of the tomb. Her torch had begun to sputter; its flame had consumed most of the oil.

"Any direction will do I guess." She randomly chose the exit to her right, realising her limited time and that even with her leather tunic and her torch alight, the cold air of the Mausoleum still bit painfully upon her skin. Without warmth and visibility, she would quickly join the community of the dead in the pitch-black darkness of this subterranean tomb. The dust became gradually thicker along the corridor, and Blood Raven was soon forced to suppress a gag simply to breathe. She was being choked…everything was a dire shade of murky brown and black…she could not see more than several metres ahead of her…turn…she had to turn around.

She stumbled out of the strangulating haze, sprawling upon the floor of a chamber where the dust was thinner, and her heaving lungs could draw in vital oxygen once more. Her suffocated torch had also dwindled to a flicker, but its flame burst into renewed life once more. Blood Raven rolled upon the cold stone floor onto her back and was confronted by hundreds of small emotionless faces. Detailed miniature granite carvings of winged angels lined the skirting recess between the walls and the high ceiling. Each figurine had been artistically captured in various postures of deep contemplation, its glazed face gazing downwards without thought or emotion.

Complex patterns had been embedded into the walls in stark contrast to the sections of the Mausoleum which Blood Raven had visited. Trails of protruding granite snaked and intertwined across the ceiling. The chamber ran length-ways, and the furthest half of the ceiling disappeared from sight as it curved upwards into a shaft. Both of the two exits which were immediately visible to her, the curved archway set in the left wall, and a descending ramp at the end of the room just past the escalated ceiling, were shadowy and ominous. 

Mysterious runes had been etched to border the arch and mysterious sheen of ethereal dark-violet, which rippled like the surface of a lake, obstructed any entry and view of what lay within. Blood Raven maintained her distance from the shimmering barrier. To the Rogue, the shimmering orchid-purple expressed an unmistakeable warning of caution and danger; it had always been the colour of the Monastery's flags which were flown upon the battlements before an impending attack.

Inscriptions had been etched above the arch, and Blood Raven stared hard with incomprehension as she slowly regained her feet. She was astonished to find had been written in an archaic form of the Rogue's language. Her foster mother, Silverstrom would have had little difficulty in deciphering the ancient script, but for the comparatively young Rogue, the words were fragmented and mystifying. 

"Malevolent… lies…" Blood Raven attempted to translate the words which were adorned with swirls and waves, reflective of the ancestral Rogues' greater affinity with nature.  
"No. That doesn't make sense." She re-examined the complex first inscription again, trying to relate the symbol to the more basic modern Rogue lettering.  
"Herein lies…, that is more understandable."  
The next set of inscriptions was obviously the name of the fallen hero within the arch. She deigned the elegant swirls far too intricate for her to translate and continued on.  
"…ast' forlone…" These words were archaic, extracted from a reminiscent saying of the Sisterhood describing fallen comrades in battle. It meant to be borne, or to be the bearer of a comrade. Perhaps the words had a similar meaning at the time of the inscription.   
"…nature's blessing…" Blood Raven was perplexed, and confused.  
"Herein lies…the bearer of nature's blessing…" No legends of which Blood Raven was aware of spoke of a druid-like hero of the Rogues.   
"It doesn't make any sense."

Then they came, soaring down from the heights of the ceiling shaft, their ephemeral forms garbed in torn, tattered cloaks which shifted and fluttered despite the lack of even a draft of air within the tomb. Blood Raven faced their ghastly skull-like visages unflinchingly and without fear. Her meeting as a child with the tomb guardians was an experience that would be forever entrenched in her memories.  
The guardians drifted into a formation around her, blocking her path any further into the tomb.  
"Tressspassser…your sssoul isss forfeit…" the tightly-drawn skin around their jaws stretched repulsively as they moaned hollowly in monotonous unison. 

"Halt! I am Blood Raven, daughter of Gale, ancestor of Lyreira Elsvairel and a disciple of the Cause." Her shout resonated within the chamber, and the ghostly beings halted momentarily in their advance, but did not depart. A hint of doubt slithered through Blood Raven's mind. Had she recited the words which had been used by Silverstrom correctly?  
The skeletal bodies of the guardians slightly jerked as if they fought an intense internal struggle. Their bodies drifted back and forth unsteadily, as if with uncertainty.  
Blood Raven stared at them transfixed, realising that something was terribly amiss. Why had the guardians not departed as they should have? She peered closer into the hollow eye pits of the nearest phantom and thought she detected the flicker of a red-tinge for an instant.  
Suddenly the eyes of each spectre flamed with fiery vehemence. "We…ssserve Elsssvariel no more…" Each word was spoken in a struggle, but the reasoning of the phantoms were clearly sundered by an overwhelming power. "The Maiden of Anguisssh demandsss… your dessstruction…" With outstretched arms all three guardians drifted towards the Rogue with demonic malevolence.

Blood Raven's blade flashed from its scabbard, the metal only a flashing arc striking towards the neck of a guardian with enough potency to behead a living adversary. But she could not harm the ancient guardians who had protected the tomb for several centuries. Her weapon passed through the ephemeral body as though through smoke. Icy skeletal fingers tightly gripped into her sword arm, numbing and paralyzing her limb instantly.


	5. Chapter III: Dark Allegiances

Spectral fists pummelled into her chest. The supernatural force of the guardian's aggressive blow hurled the Rogue from her feet and against the tomb wall in a scatter of dust and grains of granite. Hollow, eerie laughter taunted her as a guardian grasped Blood Raven by her shoulders and lifted her up into the air. She screamed in desperation and helplessness, swinging her fists futilely at her tormentors. The useless shortsword clattered to the floor as she soared across the room and was hoisted into the shaft. Her vision became a blur as the guardians elevated upwards, spinning as they went.

The world swam past in a rush, the passing myriad of burial niches only an indistinct blur of darkness and bones. For a fleeting moment that she once again spotted the flash of white. The vision flashed by spontaneously, but not before its image subconsciously lingered upon her mind. It had vaguely seemed to be a woman garbed in bone, reclining relaxingly within a niche, who had wave her hand in greeting.

The Rogue had no time to ponder upon the bizarre vision in the nauseating rapid ascent. Several hundred metres above, Blood Raven's ghostly captor's ascension paused, and the Rogue finally breathed in, gasping with vertigo.

"Perisssh tressspassser…" the phantom flung her against the tomb wall, slamming her into a stunned daze. She began to fall, screaming as she plummeted. As rows and rows of skeletal remains hurtled past, all she could see were images of death, accompanied by the echoing mocking laughter.

In her panic she barely saw the flash of white again, before its bodily weight collided against her in mid-air. The Rogue involuntarily gripped the new skeletal encounter by the shoulders, and stared bewilderedly at the smiling bone-clad woman who now fell beside her.

"Hello! I'm Trump! This looks like fun! Mind if I join you? What'chya been doing today? What's your name?" the gaunt lady appeared oblivious to the fact that they were falling head-first, their hair whipping, as they hurtled downwards to be dashed upon the stone floor below.

"What! We're falling to our deaths you stupid dimwit! AAAAAH!" Blood Raven batted away the proffered, outstretched hand.

The woman seemed disappointed, almost offended by the Rogue's actions. "I say! Life is short and they say one should always have enough time to make a new friend."

"Do…do something! Save us!" the Rogue yelled at the sulking lady.

Their descent drew closer to its excruciating conclusion, and the violet-lit floor now came rushing towards them.

"Well, if you aren't interested in making a new acquaintance, then I'll do something else." Trumped chirped haughtily. "Such as making sure we can do this again and have so much fun!" She glanced nonchalantly upwards to her feet and then at the scenery rushing by, before reaching backwards with her left hand to rummage through her backpack.

"I know just what will do the trick!" The cheerful woman withdrew a slender object, which was yellow with age, and made several grandly gestures with it.

Blood Raven stared with hysterical dawning hope, but the glimmer in the Rogue's eyes quickly dissipated when she apprehended that the bone-clad woman simply held a human-sized femur bone.

"Not only am I going to be dashed to pieces! I will be standing before the Cause with this madwoman! AAAAAH!" Blood Raven recommenced her terrified screaming realising that all was lost.

"Nonsense!" Trump reproached. She then pronounced mysterious words with growing tremulousity. "Esine…Mabolic…VERATIL!"

Nothing happened. The pair continued their descent at its terrifying speed.

"Drat!" The smile faded but momentarily as the lady jiggled the femur with frustration, before casting it aside. "That isn't what I wanted. Ah! This is however." She clasped Blood Raven around the shoulders tightly whilst she gestured with an intricately carved bone wand. A revolving myriad of translucent bone began to coalesce to surround the pair just as they plummeted past the array of angels and hit the tomb floor.

Blood Raven's world exploded in an impact of crushed bone. The bone barrier revolving around them shattered into an outwards exploding ring of shards, fractured pieces and dried marrow. The painful gist of their fall was mostly absorbed by Trump's protective barrier, and the pair now lay winded upon the floor instead of a mess of mangled, broken bodies.

Trump raised her head with a smug smile, which she maintained upon her face even when she noticed at the tip of the Rogue's blade at her throat.

"Now, now, is that how you show your gratitude to your saviour?" Trump looked with pity at Blood Raven's limp sword-arm and her frame which quivered with exhaustion."

The Rogue was certainly not in the mood for humour. "Get up! Onto your feet now! What is your part in the defilement of this sacred place?" Blood Raven's voice was tense with strong mistrust.

"I assure you, I was just climbing up these niches minding my own business. Just having some fun and seeing the sights." An innocent whistling was added to emphasis her supposed innocence.

"Lies! You are a practitioner of the dark arts. You even wear the dead upon yourself!" The Rogue looked in disgust at the lengthy, curved bone spike which protruded from Trump's skeletal left pauldron.

"Admit it! You are in league with this demonic power! I shall slay you! Tell me, why those corrupted guardians did not harm you?" Blood Raven's blade pressed harder against the skin of Trump's throat.

"Hold on there! If I may with your permission?" The threatened woman gingerly reached to her chest. "This bauble was passed from my great-great-mommy to my great-mommy to my mommy, and then to me, and is supposed to have protective powers. I was told by my good ole' mommy that it is imbued with a blessing of holiness. Somehow it warded the guardians away. Isn't that wonderful!"

Trump slowly withdrew a medallion cradled between her shapely breasts beneath her tunic and paused, staring puzzlingly. A sizeable crack now angrily separated the amulet's face and its two carved inscriptions. The bauble was dull and lacklustre, its power obviously spent and broken.

Blood Raven did not notice the mishap, and at the sight of the inscriptions also in the archaic Rogue lettering she stepped back in startled understanding. The Rogue made a sharp intake of breath and stared up above the arch.

"The last letter is not Blessing!" she whispered exhilaratingly. The Rogue peered more closely to recognise the two distinguishing lines which lashed under the symbol but had been obscured by dust. "Bearer of nature's fury… Within must lie…the Bow!"

"Your wardsss no longer pressservesss your sssoul!" the whistling, rushing approach of the guardians from above confirmed Trump's fears.

"Uh oh! We gotta run! I sorta er…broke the bauble. Run now!" the bone-clad woman moved speedily even seemingly under the heavy weight of the colossal animal ribcage which served as her breastplate.

Trump neatly hooked Blood Raven's arm as she vaulted past, dragging the astounded Rogue with her.

"No! Elsvairel herself might lie on the other side of this arch! And with her Bow!" Blood Raven protested as she frantically resisted. Her eyes widened with fear and let herself be pulled away as the guardians descended once more into the chamber.

"Run! Your bow won't be much use to you if you're dead!" The pair raced backwards towards the dust-filled corridor. "I was only joking when I called you three old geezers broken bone flutes! No hard feelings eh?" the laughing, irritating voice piped back to the pursuing phantoms as the two ladies plunged into the corridor.


	6. Chapter III: Continued

**_Act 3 - Dark Allegiances (Cont'd)_**

Their return to the entrance of the tomb was more brisk than Blood Raven's initial passage, with Trump knowingly leading the way in her bouncy, skipping gait. The bloodcurdling wails of the spectres were no longer audible, but the pair still walked nervously, glancing backwards frequently into the gloom.

The Rogue was the first to break the uneasily silence. "Your name, Trump, it is unusual. It is your real name?" she asked tentatively.

"Nopes, it's just a nickname that was given to me. My full name is Nektrump'zshrak."

Despite the song-like tone of Trump's voice, Blood Raven still shuddered at the grating, slippery sound of the name. "When you speak your name, it portrays terrible mental images of death and suffering. Who are your people? Do they all practice the dark arts?" The crimson-clad woman still stared in revulsion at the skeletal garb and pale-skin of her unlikely companion. Trump's silhouette was cast in the vaporous agate-green glow that exuded from the mysterious woman's bare palm and lit the corridor ahead.

"My name is no more disturbing than your's Blood Raven. My people hail from an underground city, secluded in the eastern jungles away from the rest of the world. Yes, we are the practitioners of Nekromantae, the practice of Death, also referred to as the Dark Arts."

"The practice of Death?" the shaken response was the typical reaction that the necromanceress expected from an outsider.

"Yes. When a person dies, the anguish and pain suffered in the final throes of death remain with their body as spiritual energy. We harness this energy of the dead, and utilise its power before it dwindles into the Abyss." The necromanceress shifted her vaporous palm closer to the Rogue. "The Prime essence of all the dead within this tomb is the sole source of this illumination."

Blood Raven peered closer into the wispy glow, and shied back quickly. She thought she had seen tortured, wailing faces, begging for release from their torment. "That is terrible! Why…why did you leave your city?" the Rogue's question was only a startled whisper.

"As Nekromancers, we believe in balance. Thus we do not interfere or mingle with outsiders. But recently, one member of our society has grown to unprecedented power, and is subverting our people towards meddling in the world's affairs. I was so appalled by the change in our people's culture that I decided to leave."

"You ran away?"

Trump stared thoughtfully into the darkness ahead with a wistful smile. "Yes, I did. Then I came here, drawn by the gathered presence of the dead. And you, what are you doing in here?"

"I…I'm not sure. The past few years have merely been a haze to me, and it was like I just woke up from a dream today. This place is used by my Sisterhood as a hallowed burial tomb, and I came to find out what has defiled it so horrifyingly."

"You aren't thinking about going back to that archway are you? Hmmm?" the pale-skinned Trump gave Blood Raven a secretive smile and a wink.

"The mystery of what lies behind the arch will always haunt me." The Rogue was torn between facing the danger and the truth. "I don't suppose you know what lies within it?" she noted the seeming familiarity with which her new companion had led their way back to the tomb entrance.

"Nopes, no idea. We could put on our sweet smiles and nicely ask the guardians to tell us?"

There was no reply to Trump's tease, and the necromanceress glanced over to find the Rogue avidly gazing at the chamber's sandstone floor. "Bloody Raven, what is da matter?

"When I first arrived, there was blood dripping from somewhere above upon the floor here. Now…there is nothing!" the Rogue's face had a puzzled expression as started forward into the circular chamber. Trump quickly stopped her with a hand on the shoulder.

"No don't go in there my comrade, you have many serious wounds. The first chamber of the Mausoleum is a trap, and it is dangerous. First you will need this!" The necromanceress retrieved two items from her backpack and tossed an arm-length cylindrical steel tube towards Blood Raven which was deftly caught. "Now watch." The other item Trump held appeared to be a vial of blood, and she casually tossed it ahead of them to shatter upon the floor. The vial shattered, splattering the floor and the stench of the blood filled the air.

"Look!" Trump pointed overhead.

Blood Raven squinted up into the darkness, but could see nothing. And then, spindly twitching forms hurtled down out of the gloom above upon strands of glistening silk. The Rogue jumped backwards alarmingly as the three bulbous, green bodies each landed upon their eight arachnoid legs. The arachnids were monstrous in size, their abdomens alone larger than a human skull. A multitude of gleaming insectoid eyes glared at the pair of women with insatiable hunger. Various mouth appendages hidden by the dagger-like fangs dipped into each splatter of blood, and within moments the sandstone was spotless once more. The sparse meal was clearly not fulfilling for the monstrosities, and the three spiders reared up upon their hind legs, hissing and forelegs waving menacingly, as they advanced upon the retreating pair of women.

Blood Raven gingerly stepped backwards with Trump at her side. "How many more horrors does this tomb hold…?"

"Hey, I've got an idea! Let's start our own zoo! Catch 'em all! We'll have a lovely collection of exotic creatures." Trump did a quick skip backwards to avoid being clawed by one of the hairy forelegs which were waving in disorientating patterns. The arachnids' dark green bodies were dappled with splotches of black which camouflaged them with the darkness

"How about we concern ourselves with not becoming spider munchies for the moment!" The Rogue stared with concern at the menacing mandibles of the closest spider. "What is the purpose of this tube you have given me? How is it going to help us?" she glanced questioningly at the necromanceress.

"Well, you point it and then press the catch at its middle."

Blood Raven found the metal catch with her thumb, tentatively pointed the cylinder towards the nearest arachnid and press down hard. The end of the steel tube snapped upwards and then shut after an orange gob of sticky and glutinous liquid popped out. "What! That is it! How is this going to kill these monsters!"

"Point it at yourself you ninny wit!" Trump appeared to be in surprisingly good spirits which seemed arguably inappropriate for their present situation.

"Don't call me a ninny! You want me to put this stuff on myself? What in the Sightless Eye is this gunk!"

"We're going to smear it all over ourselves! It's da natural body mucous of a swamp dweller - a frog-like creature which lives in the bogs of our rampant jungles in Kehjistan. Don't worry it's not their slimy mouth mucous, cause that is poisonous, and will give you super itchies."

Blood Raven looked with renewed disgust towards the necromanceress, at the tube of orange gunk she held, and then to the advancing spiders. "First a companion who practises the dark arts…and now this!" she cursed intensely under her breath, before pressing the metal catch again and quickly trailing a generous amount of its contents along her arms and legs. The contact of the orange mucous was disgustingly sticky and clammy; the mouldy odour reminded her of a rotting eggs and fish. The Rogue tossed the tube back to the bone-clad woman and began vigorously smearing the mucous over her skin.

She looked up to see Trump had also finished the task, and was astonished to see that the colour of her companion's pale skin had now transformed into a vivid orange splashed with blotches of black.

"Now we look and smell like da swamp dwellers, which are natural predators of these poison spinners in the jungle." the necromanceress looked smiling with approval at the appearance of the Rogue, who was similarly coloured but contrastingly appeared to be miserably uncomfortable.

The poison spinners had halted in their pursuit of the women, and now held their ground uncertainly. Their clawed forelegs which had been fervently flailing in disorientating patterns now waved unenthusiastically. Gleaming insectoid eyes glared closely at the two orange figures before them, unsure whether to attack or retreat. Their arachnid minds were completely geared by instinct, and the only spiders had not fled only because although these two morsels had suddenly taken upon the appearance and smell of their feared natural predator, something was amiss.

Trump completed the missing element for the spiders by getting down on all fours, and awkwardly hopping forward in her skeletal attire like a mentally challenged toad. "Come on! They believe we are swamp dwellers!" She also appeared to be having exceedingly too much fun before the monstrous, deadly arachnids. "RIBBIT!"

The two spiders before the orange, hopping bone figure scurried back several feet, hissing alarmingly and defensively rearing high upon their rear limbs.

"By my Sisters' honour, I am never going to do something that ridiculous!" Blood Raven stared dismissively at the hopping necromanceress. "Er…Trump! Help!"

The remaining arachnid which confronted Blood Raven had decidedly taken the risk of trying to devour the morsel before it which appeared to be in all manners a swamp dweller, except for the fact that it stood tall on two legs.

"RIBBIT!" Trump made another hop and the retreating spiders turned and climbed up onto the side walls of the corridor. "These two cuties are the most I can handle at the moment. You're going to have to do something yourself dearie!"

The Rogue reluctantly crouched and got down onto her knees. "By the brain of a Wendigo!" she cursed dejectedly. Blood Raven now stared up at the towering hairy body of the poison spinner which bore down upon her. "Ribit…" she muttered half-heartedly.

The arachnid continued approaching, gnashing its hairy mandibles hungrily.

"Trump! It is not working!" Blood Raven cried alarmingly.

"Make a bigger effort than that you ninny!"

The poison spinner was so close that Blood Raven could now even see the dangling mouth appendages under the spider's fangs which were used to drain the bodily liquid out of its helpless prey. "RRIIIIBIITTT!" the Rogue bellowed as she made an enormous vertical leap into the air.

All three spiders wobbled frantically away, each of their eight spindly legs quivering as they scurried back along the corridor. The trailing spider gave an alarmed hiss when Trump gave it another loud croak as it scurried past.

The deathly silence within the tomb settled once more. "For such a big ninny, you make a very good swamp dweller." The necromanceress announced, looking with satisfaction at the Rogue who still lay gasping on her back from the close encounter.

Blood Raven and Trump stared at each other for a moment, before both of them burst into peals of laughter like two gaily girls.

"Come on, I guess it's time for us to go get some fresh air." the necromanceress offered her hand to Blood Raven. She gave a toady orange-faced grin framed by her dark brown tresses.

The Rogue decided that the smile was contagious and gripped Trump's arm as she stood up onto her feet. Despite her companion's almost unnatural cheerfulness which could be considered fanatical, the necromanceress was someone good to have around in the face of danger. Blood Raven began walking awkwardly back to the Mausoleum's entry stairs as she became conscious once more of the cold, sticky and slimy sensation of the mucous coating her body.

* * *

For anyone here who is still reading my work, thankyou for staying with it this far. I have noted a very sparse lack of reviews which is a bit disheartening. I will be considering whether to continue posting further chapters of this story. 


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